Profile

She works in marketing. Her name is Maggie and she works in marketing. Maggie the marketer likes wine. After a hard day of marketing Maggie likes to go home and have a glass of wine (or six!). She goes home and has wine and her dog is also there. The dog is cute and she loves it more than anything. Dogs are so much better than boyfriends. Boyfriends might want wine, and although the dog might also want wine Maggie doesn't have to give it any. She wants all the wine for herself. It was a hard day of marketing.

Maggie likes adventures. She likes shenanigans. She might even be looking for a partner in crime (she is!). She is a laid back girl who likes to laugh, have fun with her friends and family, and can keep up with you when it comes to sports. She may even like a rival team! She lifts, and hangs out with her girlfriends, and has traveled but would love to travel more. She has a serious case of wanderlust. She is trying to get to thirty countries before turning thirty. She is on number twenty-four (glasses of wine, that is!). She is also a whiskey girl.

R.I.P. Bennie 1992-2013 you are home now she will never forget you.

Maggie thinks people shouldn't take life too seriously. Maggie thinks you should be yourself because everybody else is already taken. Maggie thinks that if you can't stand her at her worst then you don't deserve her at her best. Maggie thinks you should be the change you want to see in the world. Maggie thinks she was born to run. Maggie thinks she's just Jenny from the block. Maggie thinks she donut know and she donut care. Maggie thinks Bueller... Bueller...?

She is blessed to have some of the greatest and craziest friends in the world and she doesn't even know where she'd be without them. Sometimes they go out and party and sometimes they just like to stay in and chill. Sometimes she chills by herself (unless you count the wine). Life is short and precious and you can't afford to waste any of it. Maggie is classy, sassy, and a bit smart assy. She has one of those black dresses where part of the front is mesh and she likes to wear it out with her girls. Marketing may be hard sometimes but it's worth it to know that she's making a paycheck.

Maggie takes care of herself. You have to work hard if you want to play hard! She runs, lifts, and is looking for someone to run and lift with her. She likes to do yoga at the planetarium. She looks up at the stars and planets and thinks that she should get a new pair of leggings with stars and planets on them.

Don't freak out, those little boys are just her nephews. Although she is a proud dog mama. He's so cute and adopted!

Suburban raised, city living, wine pizza skiing plane music wine sun swimming baseball basketball football wine dog dog wine dog wine burger taco wine.

Maggie doesn't know. She has no idea. And neither does Maggie. And neither does Maggie. And neither does Maggie. And neither does Maggie.

Take Part

He plays along. He's got nothing better to do than to eat cereal and watch bake-off reruns. They're a world apart, it's easy to type a few letters and seem interested. He doesn't care enough to not take part and that, he has found, is the key. It's not that you need to care enough to do it, you need to not care enough not to. And so he can type in the words and say what she wants and maybe he even gets something out of it. Happiness? No. Satisfaction? Not quite. But it's something, something is there. And he realizes that, for better or worse, he'll have to do it again in order to put a name to it.

Waiting

Every morning I'm waking up colder. The weather is changing, my heat doesn't work. It's something I prefer, going to bed cold, piling blankets on top. But the blankets aren't working. The warmth doesn't come. It doesn't stay like it used to. It leaves little by little every night. And so begins the waiting. Because there's only so many blankets I own. Only so much heat that comes out. Only so many layers I can wear before they all start splitting. And so I will wake up colder and colder, next to a side of the bed still cool.

A Most Unfortunate Infinity

Surely someone would have said something by now. Surely I would have noticed. But people are nice, and often too nice, so a thing like this might slip through the cracks. They may push it down.

A spot. A balding spot. Right there at the back of my head, right where they are on all the other heads of all the other sad men. I spent so much time worrying about whether I was losing hair from the front I didn't even think to check for the back. I didn't think about the back at all. Hoisted!

I grab my wife's hand mirror and lock the bathroom door quietly, so as not to arouse suspicion. I stand in front of the vanity, hold the mirror in back, creating a most unfortunate infinity. Spots and spots wind on forever, forming a trail, mocking my heredity, leading to my shame.

Perhaps it isn't really there. Perhaps it is only the place where my hair parts, the place where the hairs naturally split up and go their separate ways. Quickly I part other sections, getting them in the mirror as best I can. But none of them, no, none of them look as thinned as that damned spot.

Did she know? Had she noticed? Was she, too, trying to tell herself it wasn't there? Was she looking for a way to break it to me? Was she wondering why I hadn't said something about it? Was she really that blind? Did she care about me at all?

I put the mirror back in the drawer, the brush and hair ties on top as they were. I am going about this as if I've done something wrong. And though, of course, I had no choice in the matter, I can't help feeling it. I can't feel any other way.

That Kind of Night

Notes and outgoing calls. Things people said and things I thought of. Too many texts, too many true things. That was the kind of night it was. Not the kind you plan for because can you really? You're out with a couple friends and suddenly you've met the owner of a Mexican restaurant and he's passing out tequila shots. Not the kind you shoot, the kind you sip, the good stuff. And you always have one in your hand because he keeps passing them out, his restaurant is doing very well. Flashes of things you said to pretty girls, you liked her coat, it was like a cool Santa Claus coat, and your friend said you're blowing it but that's all you wanted to say. Can't a guy compliment a girl on her coat without wanting anything in return? The place has changed, it's not how you remember it, the music is louder, the people are more. Everything starts to wash together and suddenly you're in a loft in SoHo. The car home is going to cost a lot, you didn't attract anyone and you're not crashing here, you think these guys, they might like you a little too much. But it's OK, everyone is living and alive. And if you keep drinking water and stay up just a little longer you might not feel like dying. You might even see the sun rise.

Good Things and Bad

Good things come to those who wait.

Sometimes.

Sometimes good things come to those instantly. Sometimes the people aren't waiting. Sometimes they wait forever inside an average life. Sometimes good things happen to very bad people. They make them happen. They want them more. Maybe they don't.

Then bad things come to those who wait. Bad things come at a moment's notice. Bad things happen to good people, bad people, precautions or no. Badness does not discriminate. It likes to fuck with people.

Preparation only goes so far. Living a good life only does so much. Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans? No. Life is you making those plans. Life is what happens. And you cannot try to find the meaning. You must make your own. That's the real power, the power we don't always realize we have.

We're part of the universe. It's easy to forget.

Cold Earth

It's the first time I've been in a bed in months. It's harder than I remember it being. You think the ground is hard, the cement, the cold earth. There can be nothing harder than someone else's mattress, someone else's sheets. A unnatural and more personal way of reminding you you don't belong.